


Two A.M.

by SarahWritesThings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahWritesThings/pseuds/SarahWritesThings
Summary: May 2nd may have come to an end, but a new battle begins - and healing takes time.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Two A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics taken from ["2am" by Brooke Simpsom](https://youtu.be/WRBiKrKjoQU).

_when you lean on the pain you're in, like it's your dearest friend_

_oh, how I wish somebody warned me about two a.m._

* * *

For once, Harry didn’t wake up from a nightmare. Instead, he gradually became aware that he was awake, yawning widely. He stretched, hearing the familiar sounds of creaking springs of his camp bed.

The _camp bed_. He was at the Burrow.

In an instant, he remembered. The battle. Voldemort, lying on the floor. Celebrations and mourning happening all at once.

Harry wrenched his eyes open, suddenly losing the serene feeling he had woken up with. Even in the near darkness, he recognized the shocking orange of Ron's bedroom.

Blinking away the lasting fog of sleep, Harry remembered. At some point Ron and Hermione had dragged him out of the Great Hall, and the three of them had collapsed onto the sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Then he was woken by Percy Weasley, telling him that they were going home.

Trying to find some clarity, Harry reached underneath his pillow for his glasses. He felt the wiry frames, but something was missing. With a jolt of panic, he realized his wand was gone.

Harry sat up sharply, frantically pulling up the pillow and his blankets. He slid off the bed, his hands desperately sliding across the floor, searching.

Then his hand connected with the rough wood.

His wand was there, just under the camp bed. It must have rolled off the bed during the night.

Harry sat back on his heels, trying to take a few, calming breaths.

He glanced around the room. There was no movement, save for the gentle rise and fall of Ron’s blankets, coinciding with his light snores. Looking closer, Harry noticed that a mass a brown curly were visible, poking out from the top of the covers, tucked under Ron’s chin.

After the year they had, there wasn’t even a question that the three of them would stick together.

Their presence calmed him. Against all the odds, the three of them were safe, no longer on the run.

On Ron’s bedside table the clock, slightly illuminated by moonlight, told him that it was ten past two in the morning. The tightness in his throat reminded Harry that he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the previous morning, in the Great Hall.

It was time to take a break from rest, even if he felt like he could sleep for another 24 hours without complaint. Gently, Harry climbed up off the bed, not wanting to wake the others.

His whole body felt stiff. Like he was under a full-body bind curse that was wearing off. As he took a step towards the door, a soft crunching sound made him still. He looked down, and realized he was still wearing the clothes Hermione had handed him after they climbed out of the lake. They were stained now, encrusted with dust and dirt _and blood_.

Harry ripped his shirt off, feeling the urge to throw it out the open window. A slight tearing sound told him he was being too aggressive, but he didn’t particularly care.

Instead, he scanned the room, thankfully spotting Hermione’s beaded bag on Ron’s bedside table. He grabbed it carefully, reaching in to search for anything clean. Even after fighting a vicious battle, the contents were still somewhat organized, and Harry was able to pull out a set of clean pajamas.

He changed quickly, dropping his filthy clothes onto the bed, deciding to deal with them later.

With one last glance to Ron’s bed, he carefully crossed the room and entered the dark hallway.

In all the years Harry had stayed at the Burrow, he hadn’t ever known the house to be so quiet. Even in the night, you could usually hear sounds drifting through the house. The rustle of gnomes creeping back through the hedge in the yard. The ghoul moaning in the attic. But not now.

Harry lit his wand beginning a slow journey down the rickety stairs. Even after sleeping for an entire day, he didn’t trust his tired brain to control his feet properly.

On the third floor, he decided to step into the bathroom.

He hadn’t looked in a mirror since he was at Shell Cottage, preparing to leave for Gringotts. His hair was just as messy as always, but his skin seemed dulled by the grime covering him. It looked like a corpse was staring back at him, hollow eyes questioning the life it was standing before.

Harry shuddered, looking down at the sink quickly. He tried his best to wash off his arms and face, but even after his efforts he still felt contaminated by it all. What he really needed was a long, hot shower, but that could wait until he found some food.

Stepping back into the hallway, Harry continued making his way downstairs. He stalled halfway down the second flight of stairs, his eyes coming to rest a framed newspaper clipping, from the Summer the Weasleys had visited Egypt. The whole family was there, relaxed and excited to be travelling.

His eyes landed on Fred, grinning in the back was whispering back and forth with George. His heart clenched tightly. Harry could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen one without the other. They were always inseparable.

 _But not anymore_.

Harry found himself shaking. He could see it, in his mind’s eye, Fred Weasley, laying on the floor, and Ron shaking his body, desperate for his brother to wake up.

And yet, Fred was just one of many. So many dead.

They had filled the Great Hall, the bodies laid out from one end to the other. Fred. Remus. Tonks. Colin. And so many people Harry had never had the opportunity to meet. They’d all died fighting the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters who were only at Hogwarts there because _he_ was there.

Feeling the world begin to collapse around him, Harry stepped back sharply, nearly falling down the steps as his foot missed the step. He turned away from the memories, forcing himself to keep moving, vowing to keep his eyes glued to the floor as he moved.

Reaching the first-floor landing, Harry turned sharply and made one step down the final set of stairs, but his body froze of its own accord. Ten months on the run had obviously taught his brain to be aware of everything. _Constant vigilance_ , as Moody would’ve said.

He didn’t move, trying to identify what his subconscious had registered. A minute passed with nothing, but still, Harry waited. The Burrow _had_ to be a target for any Death Eaters that were on the loose.

_Could they have made it into the house?_

Then he heard it again. A small noise, just barely audible to Harry, coming from behind him.

He turned carefully, looking at the doors in front of him. He stayed absolutely still, not wanting to signal his presence to whatever was making the sound.

As his mind was planning his best defensive tactic, the noise appeared once again. This time, his brain registered it: the smallest sniffle, coming from behind Ginny’s closed bedroom door.

The memories flashed through his mind. His last birthday, his _birthday present_.

He took a step towards the door, but stalled. Harry didn’t want to intrude on her privacy, but he wasn’t going to be able to shake his concern.

When a few more sniffles floated to his ears, he made up his mind and knocked gently. “Ginny?”

There was only silence in response. Harry let his hand turn the doorknob, opening it ever so slightly.

“Gin?”

She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. She looked at him from across the room, and he say that her eyes were red.

Her shoulder’s sunk slightly, and Harry took it as a sign that she wasn’t angry he had disturbed her. Slowly, he moved into the room, kneeling beside the bed.

Ginny watched him approach, and but when he settled next to her she turned away, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her Weasley jumper.

Harry’s fingertips brushed her back, ever so slightly. “Are you alright?”

She let out a shuddering breath, leaning down to rest her forehead on her knees.

Harry watched her, trying to find the words, _any_ words to comfort her. Ginny was normally full of energy, constantly moving, exuding warmth. But right now she was curled in a ball, her arms twitching as she fought to steady her breathing.

Gently, Harry reached out and took her hand. She did not fight him, so Harry settled their hands on the bed covers, in the space between them.

After this initial movement, Ginny slowly unraveled. She let her other arm fall, and let her legs stretch out in front of her. Eventually, she turned, sitting on the edge of her bed, looking down at him, a few tears still waiting at the edges of her eyes.

Deciding to take a page out of Ron’s book, Harry stood up, keeping their hands clasped together. He tugged slightly to pull Ginny to her feat, and she followed, letting him lead her out of the room.

As they started down the stairs, she whispered to him, “Harry, where are we going?”

Harry smiled remembering the day they first got together, when she had asked him that exact question as he led her through the halls of Hogwarts, out to the grounds.

“Just to the kitchen. I think we both need a warm drink.”

Her hand tightened around his, and he took this as another good sign.

Once in the kitchen, Harry gently pushed her into chair at the table. She sat, watching him as he moved around the kitchen, getting two mugs.

“Hot chocolate?”

She gave him a small smile, “you know the way into my heart, Mr. Potter.”

He snorted back to her, “you’re a Weasley, the answer was always food.”

Neither of them spoke while Harry made their drinks. Even when he sat down, presenting her a mug of hot chocolate, they stayed silent.

When they were at Shell Cottage, Harry had refused to sit and do nothing. But sitting with Ginny? That wasn’t too bad.

Eventually, she was the one to break the silence.

“What are you doing awake?”

He shrugged, “I just woke up. Shame, I was just a few hours off sleeping for 24 hours straight. You?”

She swirled her mug slightly, watching the pale wisps swirl around the surface. “I never got to sleep in the first place.”

“No?”

She exhaled slightly, her lips pressed together as she thought

“No, I sat down here with Mum for hours, just trying to calm her a bit, but she couldn’t stop sobbing. Eventually Dad took her upstairs, and I went to my room, but….I just never fell asleep.”

“I know the feeling….that summer in Privet Drive, after Sirius died, I ended up sleeping during the day, more than anything.”

Ginny looked up at him. “How did you fix it?”

“I dunno that I did.”

He wished he had a better answer for her, but she seemed to accept it. She curled up, folding her legs underneath her on the chair. Instinctively, his hand reached out, placing itself on her knee. How many times had the sat like this, talking about everything and nothing, in a secluded corner of the common room. It had just been a year before.

She sat forward, placing her chin on her palm. “It’s all over now, isn’t it?”

“The war?”

“The war. The death. The fear. Everything.”

Harry blinked at her, thinking. “I reckon so. There’s still a few Death Eaters out there, but I don’t think they’ll be stupid enough to try anything big, not right now. Hopefully the Aurors can track them down.”

“The Aurors are a wreck at the moment. I overheard Kingsley talking about it. Says they’re going to need to recruit from Hogwarts seventh years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Are you doing to help them?”

“Technically I haven’t completed my seventh year yet.”

“You really think they’d turn away the Chosen One?”

“I guess…”

“You always wanted to be an Auror.”

“Yeah, I did. But after the last year…not sure I’m a fan of secret missions anymore.”

“Not surprising, I suppose.” Her voice was quiet.

They sat in silence for a moment. Harry’s thumb moving slowly along her skin until his thoughts came tumbling out.

“I have no idea what to do know. My whole life has been about defeating _him_ , and now it’s over.”

Ginny nodded at him solemnly, signaling that, as always, she had understood him.

He stood up sharply, pacing the room as he rambled on.

“I think I gave up, a while ago. After Dumbledore told me about the prophecy, told me that I was the chosen one. I gave up. _Neither can live while the other survives._ I didn’t- _I shouldn’t_ have stood a chance against such a powerful wizard.”

Ginny was still watching him, carefully.

He laughed bitterly. “Somehow, someway, I’m still here and he’s gone. I’ve finished my job, but I have no idea what to do next. I never planned what would happen when the war was over, I didn’t dare to. I didn’t think I’d ever get a life without Voldemort.”

He found himself leaning on the back of his chair, feeling like he had made a mistake. Like it was all a mistake.

Ginny reached out, pulling his elbow to get him back into his chair. She spoke softly. “While I was at Aunt Muriel’s, I started to feel like the war would never end. And if it did, god knows that life would be like then.”

Dragging himself back to the present, Harry tried to crack a joke. “I suppose that’s actually worse. Better Voldemort finish me off then make me finish my NEWTs as a Slytherin.”

Ginny moved quickly, punching him in the shoulder. “Don’t you dare joke about that Harry. We all thought you were dead, being carried by Hagrid like that.”

“I was dead.”

He spoke without thinking. He had been reaching for his mug, but froze when he realized what he had said. In the silence, he looked at Ginny.

She was staring at him, her mouth hanging open. She started several times, then finally managed to whisper, “what?”

“Not when Hagrid was carrying me, but before that, in the forest. I went to him, when he asked me to, I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

He tried to recoil, but Ginny grabbed his hand with both of hers, keeping it in place on her lap.

Harry suddenly found his throat was very dry again, and he took another sip of his hot chocolate, now gone cold. He must have forgotten to put a heating charm on the mugs.

Ginny was still waiting patiently, so Harry forced himself to continue.

“When I went into the forest, I walked straight into the clearing, where all the Death Eaters were. I stood there and I let Voldemort hit me with the killing curse. But I didn’t die. Or I did, but then I came back.”

He felt a tear slide down his cheek but didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“I spoke to Dumbledore, maybe it was his ghost? We spoke for a while, and then he told me I could go back, if I wanted to. I decided that I did, and then I woke up, lying on the floor.”

Ginny stared at him, “but…then how-?”

“It turns out, when he tried to kill me the first time, he kinda…bound his soul to mine. There’s more to it than that, but it’s too complicated to explain right now.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Either way, when Riddle tried to kill me again, he killed the part of his soul that was inside of me.”

She looked horrified, completely frozen at the concept. She breathed, “when you say, ‘bound his soul’ to yours…”

“Like he bound his soul to the diary, yes.”

For a moment, Ginny looked as if she might be sick, but she shook her head. “So you died, and talked to Dumbledore, and then came back?”

“I think so. Or maybe I didn’t, I don’t think we’ll ever know.”

“ _Shit._ ”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

Harry took another sip of his drink, but when he looked back at Ginny the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

“So now you’re _the Boy Who Lived, twice over_?”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, “I suppose, doesn’t quite flow off the tongue though.”

She feigned seriousness, “no, we’ll have to decide on a different name. How about, ‘the Stubborn Prick’?”

They looked at each other for a moment, then both burst into laughter, fueled by exhaustion-induced delirium. Harry had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from being too loud, and Ginny slid in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself.

When they finally managed to calm down, Harry had to pull off his glasses to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

Still out of breath, Ginny spoke, “Merlin, I haven’t laughed that hard since-”

She cut herself off, her breath hitching slightly.

Harry rammed his glasses back on and leaned closer to her, “since?”

“A few days ago, at dinner. Fred had bewitched Aunt Muriel’s hair clip to change shapes as she talked. She was furious….”

She blinked up at him, “my brother’s dead.”

“I know, Ginny. I’m so sorry.”

Her shoulders shook slightly, “Fred’s just…..he’s just gone.”

She let out a small sob, and Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap.

Much like he had found her, she curled into a ball, but now with her head tucked under Harry’s chin. Warm tears dripped onto Harry’s shirt, and he let one hand rub her back gently.

Muffled by his shirt, Ginny’s voice floated up to him. “It just doesn’t make sense. _Fred._ ”

His heart constricted. “No, it never makes sense.”

“I can’t even imagine what George is feeling. They’ve always had each other.”

“It’s going to be tough, for all of you.” He sighed, wrapping his arms more securely around her, “but I’ve never known a family as tough as the Weasleys. You’ll get through it, as a family.”

She sniffed, “I miss him so much it _hurts_.”

“It never really stops hurting. But that’s because you loved him.”

They stayed like that for a long time, occasionally murmuring words of comfort to each other.

Then, from some corner of the house, the quiet chimes of a clock signaled that is was now three in the morning.

Ginny sighed, “I suppose I should try and get some rest, before morning.”

He nodded slightly, and Ginny extracted herself from his arms. Harry watched as she grabbed their mugs off the table, placing them gently in the kitchen sink.

She turned back to him, and Harry stood, coming up to stand in front of her.

_Home._

This time, Ginny took his hand and lead him up the stairs. Standing in front of her open bedroom door, she stalled.

Harry gave her hand a little squeeze, then whispered to her, “goodnight, Gin.”

But when he tried to continue up the stairs, Ginny pulled him back.

“Will you stay with me, tonight?”

He moved back to her side, “if you want me to.”

She gave him a weak smile, still with tears highlighting the edges of her eyes. Dropping her hand, she crossed her bedroom and climbed into bed, scooting towards the wall to make room for him.

Instinctively, Harry slid in beside her, letting his arms wrap around her waist as she tucked her head under his chin again.

Harry felt her eyelashes flutter against his neck as she closed her eyes, letting out a long breath.

“Harry?” she asked, in a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Gently, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I was going to say the same thing.”

“It’s going to be okay, yeah?”

“Definitely, we're going to be okay.”

* * *

_no one prepares you for two a.m._


End file.
